i’m not writing much lately.. i just haven’t had the urge.. i don’t know if you can understand, but i just feel like shutting myself away from my own analysis. i’m concentrating on ‘doing’ things, i guess. the start of this stage production; redesigning the angelish site, and this diary.. they’re the main things, i guess. i should also be working on the design for the artbeat gallery, and the video animation for the artbeat launch exhibition. blah. i lack motivation for anything artbeat related.
something struck me the other day. a memory from high school. i was in the middle of an acting workshop, for the stage production (which, by the way, has the project name of “working arts”, which is what i’ll call it from now on). i was sitting opposite the director, learning/demonstrating a line dropping technique (which is based on method acting, it’s a Stanislavsky derivative), and i had a flash of being on stage in 1992. it was one of those “and it all came rushing back to me” moments. i got the rush of performing. something i haven’t felt in years. i remembered why i loved it back then. ooh, attention. when i decided to participate in working arts, i was hell-bent determined that i would ONLY take part in the writing, because that is where i want to push myself in the future. that, and because i had forgotten how much i love acting. my only concern about this, is that i’m paranoid about getting stage fright (which i have experienced once).
as a kid, i was a real performer. i did it all. ballet, poetry recitals, choir, school plays, even had a few acting lessons. all this was before i turned 12. high school drama classes fuelled the passion, and by the end of high school, i was convinced that i was going on to study at NIDA.. i don’t remember when i lost that dream. to study at NIDA, you had to be 18 when you lodged your application, so i had to wait another year.. and somewhere along the line that year, i forgot about it. i could blame working in a crappy job, i could blame a fiancé who wanted to crush every dream i held, every plan i ever made, or i could blame myself for not taking myself seriously enough, or for giving into those things.
whatever comes of working arts, the final result, is irrelevant, because the process can only be good for me. getting in touch with that love of performing has revitalised me. i haven’t felt so alive for so long. i’ve been aching, emotionally, for too long.
my dissatisfaction with the visual arts industry, is based on several things.. one, the industry here in Brisbane is too small, even if you do get known here, it doesn’t mean much to anyone, except about 3000 other artists that are trying to do exactly the same thing. two, visual arts as a whole, doesn’t recognise ‘people’, the system recognises ‘names’ and the objects associated with that name. three, you hide yourself away for god knows how long, to make this precious object de’ art, and come out for one night of glory, only to return to your hole again. granted, your name is a little more known when you return, but that’s a relatively meaningless gain.
maybe i’m being too egotistical in my interpretation of ‘success’. maybe i should be more grateful for the process of making the art itself. but, when i think about that process, it hasn’t been all that good to me of late. the last two exhibitions i’ve had (and the one i’ve got coming up) i’ve practically had to force myself to work. i’ve never had to do that before. i used to want to make. it used to be a driving force within me, and now i’m dragging it behind me.
i’ve lost the will to make.
i’m scared by that, more than anyone could possibly understand. my self-identity was based upon the will to make. on being an artist. and now, it seems that i’ve lost the will, and i’ve lost that identity. so if i’m not that anymore, who the goddamn hell am i?
i’m too young for a mid-life crisis..